


Untitled: Crossdressing

by xtricks



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Crossdressing, F/M, Kink, Pegging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-15
Updated: 2011-05-15
Packaged: 2017-10-19 10:45:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/199978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xtricks/pseuds/xtricks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack is gone, but they still need him.<br/>Set between S1 and S2</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled: Crossdressing

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by RM

Gwen looked over to see Ianto sitting, legs akimbo, on the narrow camp bed that was evidently where Jack slept - had slept. His eyes were dark and wounded in the light filtering down from above and he'd knocked over the beer bottle on the floor, letting it puddle around his shoes and fill the awkward little room with the smell of yeast and fermentation. Gwen felt crawlingly exposed, caught with her hand in Jack's wardrobe like a thief.

"Go upstairs," she told him, voice squeaking exactly the way she didn't want. She bit her lip and cleared her throat. "Go ... go and wait for me."

Ianto's silent nod was as uncertain as she felt but he obeyed, fumbling his drunken way up the ladder. Without Ianto watching her, Gwen could make herself turn back to the wardrobe and force it the rest of the way open.

She'd fantasied about Jack's bedroom, back in the beginning, before she'd realized how little there was behind his bright, seductive smile. She'd never imagined this; a tiny wedge of a space, full of water pipes with a press board wardrobe and moth-eaten army blankets older than her mother for warmth. It made her think of Rhys and laughing as they piled a cart to the brim with checked curtains and flamingo pink sheets and - Gwen squeezed her eyes shut and _stopped_ thinking of Rhys.

Instead she reached for the first shirt her hands fell on. Unsurprisingly, it was blue. Lined up like waiting soldiers, Jack's wardrobe was full of similar blue (light, dark, and the pale green at one end was startling in the sea of blue) shirts. White vests were folded on the shelf above - Gwen took one down and a pair of trousers and pulled off her own clothes.

The cotton vest was soft and worn and Gwen bunched it to her nose as she slid it on, chasing the dream of Jack's smell and warmth. She rubbed a few tears away on it too, before slipping her arms into the light blue shirt she'd chosen and buttoning it up. Wide in the shoulders, long in the sleeve, it pulled snug across her breasts and that brought a wavering smile to her face. Jack would love to see her in his shirts, fingers drawn to the taunt buttons until she slapped them away because she wasn't letting Jack into her clothes - even when they were his. She left the top button undone and rolled up the sleeves to her elbows, carefully creasing the folds.

The harness was the awkward part, neither her nor Jack, and she struggled with it, yelping once as one of the straps caught at her pubic hair. She wiggled her hips, trying to squirm the straps into comfort and ran her finger around the open ring at the front, a blush crawling up from Jack's shirt to burn her cheeks. Glancing up at the open manhole - and Gwen couldn't quite suppress the slightly hysterical giggle at the name - she was torn between hoping Ianto had reconsidered and fled and terrified that he abandoned her.

She was grateful for Jack's braces and the belt as she pulled on his trousers, hiding the harness beneath fine wool. The cuffs were inches too long and Gwen sat uneasily on Jack's bed as she rolled them under, hiding the extra fabric on the inside of the legs. The wool against her bare arse felt odd, scratchy and warm and soft all at once, and there'd been so many times when she'd brushed up against Jack, or gripped him or shoved him and felt _wool_ and _heat_ and now all her bare skin felt it and thought _Jack._ The harness pressed against her pussy and Gwen squirmed at the dull touch, glancing down she could see the line of her nipples against the shirt and rubbed her thumb over one, pinching through the layers of cotton. Her eyes drifted to the manhole again, had Ianto done this to Jack? Gwen pinched harder, sensation raced down to warm her pussy.

Had he unzipped these pants? Undone this belt? She rubbed the worn leather, tracing back to where the holster had deformed it and wondered where that gun was now. Not here, leaving them all behind to wonder and to fall apart. And that goaded her up off Jack's bed and up the ladder because the last thing Gwen wanted was to start thinking about Jack - where he was, why he'd left them all. Was he even alive or had he found the right sort of Doctor to cure him of forever? Barefoot, Gwen scrambled out of the hole in the floor, breathless and panting and -

\- Ianto was lying across the desk, waistcoat and shirt and trousers all undone, eyes tight shut and teeth caught in his lip as he pulled on his cock, half-hard and startling. His tie was askew, trailing across his throat like a silk bruise.

Gwen almost laughed, shocked with embarrassment, and Ianto was ... well, he was much more than a _handful_ and Gwen had never wondered, never thought of Ianto half-naked on Jack's desk and waiting -

 _\- to be fucked._

 _ _"Jack,"_ Ianto breathed, more than half-drunk and Gwen clapped a hand over her mouth to stop from squeaking out something because if she felt silly in Jack's clothes it was nothing to what she saw on Ianto's red face. Desperation, misery, the same _don't-think-about-it_ embarrassment that Gwen felt burning under wool and cotton that didn't belong to her._

Ianto was _strange_ unbuttoned like that. So young, Gwen suddenly realized and did Jack ever feel such an aching rush of tenderness under his shirts like this? Did he feel it for _her?_ Was this what it meant to lead? It was terrifying. Ianto shifted on the desk, thumb running over the tip of his cock and coming away shining. He was waiting for her - for _Jack_ \- for the closest thing either of them could have to Jack.

Gwen couldn't make everything all right. She didn't know how to hold everyone together, how to keep them strong without Jack. But Jack wouldn't let Ianto fall apart, he'd do _something_ and Gwen could do something. She could do this.

At least, Gwen swallowed back a nervous snicker that she knew would be taken the wrong way, she didn't have to worry about losing her hard-on; so long as she didn't drop it. She padded over, old brick cold under her feet.

The background hum of the Hub was a strange counterpoint to Ianto's heavy breathing, his breath caught in a little, miserable sound that broke Gwen's heart when she put a hand on his thigh. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and Gwen didn't ask him to open them.

"You look hot," she whispered throatily, trying not to sound like herself, knowing there was no way she could sound like Jack. But she could imagine what he'd say. She could look at Ianto and imagine what he's say.

Ianto spread his thighs wider when Gwen rubbed a thumb over his kneecap, his hand was still wrapped around his cock, softening a little in his grip. With his shirt open, Gwen could see that the hints dark hair she'd seen once or twice spread across his chest and flowed down his belly to a dense nest of pubic hair. His skin was pale, like hers, where it wasn't flushed red. His mouth was red and his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his throat and the head of his cock. His open trousers were pushed halfway down his thighs, awkward and in the way.

"Don't stop on my account," she said, because that's what Jack would say and if Ianto faltered now neither of them would get through this. "You look so hot." Gwen bit her lip realizing a moment too late that she'd said that already.

She quickly ran her hands up his thighs, reaching to grip his hipbones and trying not to let him feel how uncertain she was. Her hands were too small and Gwen felt a rush of painful frustration even as Ianto's cock twitched and swelled as he worked it, fingers shifting erratically over his own flesh. Muscles flexed under Gwen's hand and she looked at Ianto's cock, bigger than she'd imagined, and knew that Jack must have sucked it. He must have loved to suck it. On his knees, on his back, laughing as Ianto pulled at his hair and Gwen bent, mouth wide and watering. Jack would do this, Jack would love this, Jack would make Ianto beg and moan. The thought of Jack with his mouth full of Ianto stirred a sudden rush of heat through her and Gwen's pussy clenched with greed, slicking the strap that ran between her legs. The cotton of Jack's shirt cupped her breasts, a little too tight, like being held.

She closed her eyes and sucked, mouth watering, Ianto's thumb brushing her lips. He jerked under her and she leaned all her weight on his hips to hold him down. Jack wouldn't be gentle, she thought, gripping his trousers and hauling them down, choking a little as Ianto bucked unexpectedly.

Above her, Ianto gasped Jack's name and that wasn't wrong it was _right_ and Gwen ran her tongue across the hot, salt-bitter crown of his cock to make him moan like Jack would. Ianto gripped Gwen's shoulders, twisting his fingers in the blue cotton of Jack's shirt, he moaned Jack's name again. Gwen moaned, muffled, around his cock. and squeezed her legs together, wool pulling across her arse and making the strap pull tight to her pussy in a little rush of pleasure.

Jack wouldn't be tender, she thought and stroked her hands up Ianto's chest to pinch his nipples, twisting her fingers. Jack wouldn't let Ianto be quiet, Gwen slithered her tongue along Ianto's foreskin and he writhed. When she flicked her tongue across the slit, tasting him, he cried out.

"That's right," Gwen lifted her head and said hoarsely, "love to hear you make some noise." Jack would say something like that, she was sure. Ianto tasted good and it wasn't Rhys and it wasn't a crazy, horrible affair with Owen and it wasn't really about her at all but the taste of him made her wet, made her hot and that was okay - Jack would like this too.

Jack wouldn't be inhibited and Gwen nosed lower to lick Ianto's balls, hair rasping under her tongue. Jack would know where the lube was but it took Gwen several tries before she found it, Ianto finally muttering. "Middle _left_ drawer."

"Sorry, sor-" Gwen bit her lip and dragged her tongue along the wet length of Ianto's cock to distract him from something Jack would never say. Ianto kicked his trousers off his shins, baring solid, hairy legs with a disturbingly precise set of scars on one thigh. Jack wouldn't flinch but Gwen couldn't help it when she realized just how close Ianto must have been to conversion, at Canary Wharf. Ianto hooked his heels around Gwen's shins, rubbing her trousers with his heels, closing his eyes swiftly when Gwen looked up at him.

"This is going to feel good," Gwen promised, like Jack would, fumbling with the cap on the lube. "You're going to love the way I do you." She couldn't quite say the word fuck.

She was going to put her finger in Ianto's _arse_... and she _couldn't_ but Jack would and she squirted lube on her fingers and put her hand down there and felt the pucker of his arsehole and desperately wished Jack would come home right _now._

Ianto was hot and he was tight and when Gwen pushed - steady, she thought, like Jack would - he arched his head back, cock twitching. That made it not so bad and it wasn't so bad, really, his arsehole worked like a little mouth around her fingers and she pushed them in deeper. Ianto took it easily, head lolling on the desk. Jack had shown him, Gwen thought with another rush of heat and wet want. Jack had done this to Ianto and he'd watched him writhe just like this and he'd pushed two fingers in just like this and rubbed his cock with the other. Ianto had clenched his thighs around Jack's legs like this, rocking up to Jack's hand like this and looked wide-eyed and hungry. Gwen shifted and rubbed her hand restlessly over her pussy, through wool and leather.

"Fuck me," Ianto gasped, gaze unfocused, Gwen twisted her fingers, pushing deeper and Ianto broke off to groan then beg. "Fuck me -"

"Eager," Gwen muttered and dragged her hand back and struggled with her flies and she wanted to fuck Ianto, just like Jack. "Greedy," she taunted him, just like Jack. "Beautiful," she said, just like Jack, struggling with the snaps on the harness, lubed fingers slipping on leather and steel and silicone. Her trousers slithered down her thighs, the tail of Jack's shirt fluttered along the bare skin of her arse and Gwen bit her lip and fit the base of the dildo into the o-ring of the harness.

The dark blue lines of the dildo curved up from her pussy, artificial head tilted at a jaunty angle - not quite like Jack - but she smoothed lube on the length anyway, pushing into her hands, getting ready to fuck Ianto. Just like Jack.

Ianto's thigh was solid and heavy under her hands as she lifted one, spreading him for her hips and feeling his heel digging into the curve of her arse as he pulled her closer, eyes tight shut, mouth open, wet and vulnerable. Gwen leaned forward with a grunt and _pushed_ , hand on her slippery blue cock to guide it. The push in put pressure on her mons, a dull flare of pleasure amid all the awkwardness; Ianto gasped and Gwen looked down to see the head of her cock slip inside him and she groaned, shaking with effort and dizzy with sudden lust.

"Oh, god," she breathed, just like Jack she was sure, when he watched Ianto open and take him in like this. Straining on tip-toes, she pushed again, deeper, gaze darting from where her cock slid past the taunt pink ring of Ianto's hole to his panting, flushed, needy face. "Yeah," she crooned, and didn't care if it was what Jack would say. "Yeah, baby, that's it." She called Rhys her baby too, sometimes.

Ianto's whimpers pulled her on, sweat crawling down her neck to dampen the collar of Jack's shirt, and this was _work._ Ianto pulled his knees up and Gwen leaned forward, panting, but it was easier and she dared to thrust. Ianto's cock twitched against her belly, against Jack's shirt and surely he'd felt that before; cotton and heat and sweat. Gwen thrust again. Ianto started to moan, flailing, hands landing on her arms to twist in pale blue cotton.

He pulled and Gwen thrust and her shirts rode up her back, sweat chill on bared skin while the sleeves bound against her shoulders as she fucked Ianto. The way Jack would.

"God," she panted harshly, "god." She was _fucking_ Ianto on Jack's paperwork - her paperwork now - and in his clothes. Ianto clung to Jack's shirt and cried under her and Gwen leaned down to press against him, to hold him and to fuck the misery right out of him. Gasping, Ianto buried his face against Jack's shirt; she felt his teeth, biting fabric - Jack's - and flesh - hers.

"Oh, oh, oh -" Ianto was too drunk to do anything but take her and Gwen steamed under layers of cotton and wool as she did so, sweat gathering in her hair, panting hard against the side of Ianto's face, kissing his temple, telling him it was _okay, okay, it was okay, baby._

They kissed almost by accident, Ianto tasted like beer and whisky and sour before he turned is face to press against Gwen's shoulder muffling his cries against Jack's shirt - Gwen could feel him licking it - and came. The jerk and buck of his hips nearly threw Gwen off her feet and she clung to him, feeling his come seeping sticky and hot into her clothes. Ianto kept his face pressed tight to Jack's sweaty shirt and Gwen stroked his hair.

Under Jack's shirts and pants, she ached, but the cotton was strong and the layers hid her all her doubts and she could do this - just like Jack.

 **END 062109**


End file.
